The Justice League International in: Say, Nazi or Guy's Night Out
by Gilliamesque
Summary: Even the world famous superheroes of Justice League International need a break from time to time. A cold, refreshing beverage, a bit of stimulating conversation between close friends, Nazi super villains trying to murder you and rule the planet...Well, most of us could probably do without that last part. A mostly short, hopefully funny thing I felt like attempting.
1. Chapter 1: A Bar is Born

In New York, as it is in most major cities, the problem is never about finding a bar, it's finding one that everyone can agree on. Maybe someone hates the decor, maybe another hates the kind of people who drink. Sometimes it's the prices, sometimes it's the way the bartender adds a bit too much tonic in the gin & tonic, but there's always _something_. To the uninitiated, the act of collectively choosing a bar, what at first would seem a simple task, becomes an insurmountable task. Friendships have been lost, relationships ruined, wars started, all because people couldn't decide which building they wanted to drink their alcohol in. Some people say it is mankind's only flaw, but then those people were always kind of full of themselves.

For the members of Justice League International however, arguing was their _raison d'etre_. They had come out of the womb (or in the case of J'onn J'onzz, the Martian birthing caves) arguing, their bread and butter was made of snide remarks and sarcastic insults. It was even said that this new, modern Justice League spent more time goofing off and making jokes than performing the noble tasks of heroism that brought the original members of the League together, but that was only a rumor (as long as Max Lord's legal team was around). To the JLI it wasn't the look of the bar that mattered, just the ability to sit down and get on each other's nerves was more than enough.

That evening, the tavern in question was The Black Room, an unassuming little venue that had originally been the popular gay bar known as Manhunters, before the fallout of a failed invasion by a race of genocidal machines forced the owners to rebrand. Aside from the genuine hardwood counter and leather seats, The Black Room was noteworthy for being featured in _Dancing with the Devil_ , a made-for-TV movie based on the life and times of the Blue Devil that had somehow managed to make the lead character more of a turquoise than blue. The owners even had a 'As Seen on Dancing With the Devil' plaque displayed prominently above the counter as you walked through the door. Whether Dancing With the Devil made people want to visit the bar more often or just drink more to forget had yet to be determined.

With the Martian Manhunter off on one of his Martian holidays and Fire & Ice at some fashion show, the team that walked through the doors of The Black Room where the Blue Beetle (alias Ted Kord), Booster Gold (alias Michael Carter), Mister Miracle (alias Scott Free) and, for some inexplicable reason, Guy Gardner (the other Green Lantern). Not that the average bystander would recognize 3/4ths of the group as world-famous superheroes of course, hidden as they were in their civilian identities. And anyway, would anyone who worked with Guy Gardner on a daily basis really _want_ to hang out with him after work?

"Look guys, this is going to be great, I swear." Ted said excitedly. "You know, I heard that while they were filming _Dancing With the Devil_ , Scott Bakula would reenact scenes from Cocktail between every take. They spent 1100 dollars on broken bottles of vodka alone."

"Is that the one where they made Blue Devil teal or something?" Booster muttered. "Man, that movie was so bad it made roadkill look like the Sistine Chapel. Why would you want to visit something related to that crap?"

"First of all, he was turquoise. Second of all, _Dancing With the Devil_ was the greatest work of cheesey cinema since _Dinosaur Grandma_ , and I won't have a nonbeliever like you blaspheming against it."

"Spare me…"

"Figures that Beetle would be a fan of a nobody like Blue Doofus." Guy grunted. "Probably even hold hands when they go to the Star Trek conventions together."

"Ixnay on the Eetle-bay Gardner, or I'll tell Batman to give you another spanking. This is supposed to be a low key affair, remember?"

"Since when is anything we do low key?" Booster quipped.

"Barda and I haven't watched much TV lately since Cagney & Lacey ended." Free added.

"You're all idiots. Now come on, let's try and get our drinks before the next millennium, alright?"

Luckily, the rest of the world had yet to catch on to Ted Kord's taste in cinema, so the four men were able to saunter up to the bar without that much difficulty. The bartender, whose name happened to be Rico, looked like a guy who spent way too much time trying to get noticed by people he considered important. Unfortunately for him, those important people even more time trying to notice him.

"Hello gentleman, welcome to The Black Room. Would you like to try our new diet lager this evening?" Rico said.

"Uh, no thanks, just get a Tom Collins." Ted replied. "Heavy on the Collins."

"I'll take a French 75, my good man!" Booster said.

The man known as Blue Beetle turned and looked at his friend with a quizzical look. "What the hell is a French 75?"

"It's a cocktail, man. I think it's got gin, lemon juice and champagne in it or something."

"Does it come with a purse too?" Guy asked a sneer.

"For your information, the French 75 is a **high-class** cocktail, alright? It was in Casablanca."

"You've never even seen Casablanca dude." Ted shot back. "I know, because I've tried to get you to watch it and you always claim your angina is acting up."

"His WHAT?"

"Shut up Guy. Yeah, I've never seen Casablanca. Most people haven't seen Casablanca. But what they do know is it's a **high-class** movie, so when I walk up to an attractive lady and drop that little tidbit, she'll know what kind of guy I am."

"The kind of guy who uses other, more popular things as a way to make yourself seem popular because you're afraid that no one would love you if they got to know the real you?"

"Ha ha. You're just jealous you didn't think of it first."

"Moi? Jealous? Perish the thought." Ted said with a wave of his hand. "And since when do you think at all?"

"Oh I think a lot. Most about how much of a total clown you are. And you're totally jealous dude, just admit it. I don't blame you, I mean just look at me, but it's just not healthy from a psychological perspective."

"My foot is about get a new perspective from the inside of your-"

"You know, there are probably other people waiting to be served, so..." Rico mumbled.

"Well, I'll just take an orange juice, please." Scott said, glancing at the two heroes as they glared at each other. Apparently the JLI wasn't all that much different than being back home with Barda and Oberon

"Oh no you don't!" Guy said, or rather shouted at the New God. "Guy Gardner doesn't drink with anyone who drinks juice at a bar, alright?!"

"You _could_ just leave…" Scott replied, half under his breath.

"And let you wimps off easy? Where would the fun be in that?" Guy countered, then leered over at Rico. "He'll have a Wallbanger. Gimme me a pitcher of Dusseldorf and a pitcher of Heisler, none of that diet crap. I'm trying to have fun here, not to join the yuppie patrol."

"Of course sir. I'll get right on that." Rico replied, as he began to grab glasses and bottles. Times like this made him wish he had never left law school.

"Well, delusions of grandeur aside," Ted said as he leaned against the counter, "I've got a hunch this is shaping up to be a pretty fun night."


	2. Chapter 2: An Aryan Notion

What the Blue Beetle had failed to consider (a common occurrence whenever he opened his mouth) was that in the case of statements made in hopeful optimism, specifically those based on 'hunches', 'feelings' or any other form of intuition, fate inevitably and unerringly favored the side of dramatic irony. This wasn't just an opinion based on jaded worldview mind you, this was a rule sewed into the very fabric of the universe, established by the Lords of Order and Chaos as one of the few bits of common ground that hadn't just devolved into Doctor Fate shooting magic everywhere. Any hopeful statement based on a hunch was destined to descend into chaos, and any event that seemed utterly hopeless and chaotic had a backdoor to restoring order. Which to the people of Earth probably would have explained a lot, were they or the vast majority of living things in the whole of creation privy to the machinations of cosmic entities. Not everything, but a lot.

So it actually made perfect sense when a mysterious black-cloaked man slipped out the building as the bar's attention was shifted the stalwart JLI, despite the fact that one of the heroes wielded a magic ring powered by will and another carried a computer powered by God. Although, if we were being honest, it probably would have happened with or without an immutable law of reality. Crusaders for justice the JLI might have been, but they really weren't the most observant heroes in the world.

The cloaked figure swiftly made his way down the busy streets and bustling thoroughfare of the Big Apple, effortlessly blending into the crowds of people like a human chameleon. In any other city in the world a mysterious cloaked figure walking down the street at night might have caused some alarm, but this was New York, and enough weird stuff happened in New York on a daily basis that only slight peculiarity didn't even register on most people's radar. Even something like the Mirror Master turning Manhattan into glass had only lasted about a week in the public consciousness, and that was partly because they ended up stopping trash pickup for a week.

Eventually, after a few blocks and a awkward cab ride, the mysterious cloaked figure finally made it to his destination, an old brownstone sitting in a row of other dusty buildings. It was one of those buildings that reminded you of the NYC that used to be before it became the NYC that it was now. Stepping up to the door, the cloaked figure reached out with a gnarled hand and tapped hesitantly on the door.

To call the woman who answered the door 'Teutonic' would have been a gross understatement. Tall, blonde, built like she bench-pressed Volkswagens for a living and yet possessed of an undeniable beauty and refined femininity. Indeed, if she didn't have an expression on her face like she just opened a 5 month old container of sauerkraut, she would probably have been the most perfect example of a woman outside of Themyscira.

"Oh, _you_ again." She grumbled. "What do you want this time?"

"I have some information that is of some interest to _mein meister_." The mysterious cloaked figure rasped. "Is he in?"

"Of course he's in! Where else would he be?" The blonde woman scoffed. "All he does is sit in that chair of his and grumble through reruns of Hogan's Heroes, _das große kind!_ If you want to deal with him be my guest."

True to her word, there was someone sitting in a (horribly upholstered) chair in the living room of that house, muttering to himself with a hateful expression as he watched the comedic antics of Bob Crane on a puny (and for some reason crusty) television set. Unlike his female companion, this man didn't seem like the perfect model for anything but AARP commercials. A real tortoise of a man, a collection of wrinkles and liver spots that would have made anyone jealous, if that was the sort of thing that people got jealous about. All ancient except for his eyes, as black as you could get, which seemed to shine with a predatory light in contrast with his appearance. Eyes which he now locked on the two who entered the living room.

"Gudra, I've told you before that I desire no company while watching my programs!" He growled.

"I'm not your servant, _du alter esel_!" Gudra barked back. "I'm the person stuck with you because great Woden is a sore loser. Besides, you don't even like that show anyway, I have no idea why you keep watching it."

"To stoke the flames of my hatred, _mädchen_! To etch the humiliation into the core of my soul, so that I may repay it a thousandfold on those who dared to defy _der Fuhrer's_ grand vision! That is why I watch it!"

"Oh please. You just don't remember how to work the remote."

" _Ruhe_!" The old man said with a glare, then turned to the mysterious cloaked figure. "Now, state your reason for being here."

" _Mein meister_ , I have information that would prove worthy to your goals." The mysterious cloaked figure announced as he prostrated himself before the old man. "The new Green Lantern is walking about the streets of the city, outside of the protection of his Justice League headquarters."

"Green Lantern?" The old man echoed. " _Der_ _Afrikaner_?"

"No, _mein meister_ , the other Green Lantern."

"Other Green Lantern? How many of them are there?"

"At least four by the last count, _mein meister_. Anyways, he has decided to lower his guard and blind himself with cheap alcohol. This would be a perfect time to strike a blow against the filthy _Amerikaners_ by taking out one of their champions!"

"Hmm, yes, this news is most interesting indeed." The man mused. "This Green Lantern… He is alone?"

"When I left to report this, he was accompanied by three other men, but I doubt they were anyone of importance. It is common knowledge that the other members of the _verdammt_ Justice League International despise this Green Lantern, none of them would spend time with him outside of League business."

"Yes… if this Green Lantern's ring is like the ring of that accursed Lantern of the Justice Society, then it can do anything the user commands." The old man considered, slowly getting more energized. "And if I were to have the ring, it would do anything I command. Restore my youth and power, destroy the remnants of the All-Star Squadron and these shallow modern imitations, place myself as the ruler of a new Germany, one that would fulfill the Fuhrer's dream of a thousand year Reich! Everything that I have earned, everything that I deserve, taken with _mein_ own hands!"

"Uh huh." Gudra said with a roll of her eyes. "And how are you going to use this ring, smart guy? Who's to say the ring even works without the Lantern to operate it?"

"Then I will **force** it to work for me!" The old man shouted. "I carry with me the spirit of Herr Hitler and the Nazi cause. My will shall not be broken by some magic green bauble!"

"Yeah."

"Gather your spear and your steed Gudra! We shall call upon our soldiers, rip the ring from the green schweinhund's finger and begin our glorious march to ultimate victory!" The old man was standing now, waving his arms wildly in the air, his voice booming off of the walls and rattling the ALF collector's plates in the nearby china cabinet. "Soon, this country- No, this entire world, shall tremble before the power of the _Übermensch_ and _Axis Amerika_!"

"Uh, can I get off the floor now?"


	3. Chapter 3: The Important Stuff

2 drinks in.

"Look, all I'm asking is, what is the point of science fiction?" Booster asked. His pose and the way he raised his glass seemed to imply that he was hoping that someone feminine would notice. So far, no one had.

" Hey man, if Trekkies didn't exist, who would school bullies steal lunch money from?" Ted countered. His pose and the way he raised his glass seemed to imply that he was just really thirsty. "That's an entire industry you're dooming based on your opinion, young man."

"But why does it exist? What's the point? What's science fiction saying that doesn't already happen in real life? Artificial intelligence? Red Tornado was a member of the JLA. Alien life? We just got done thwarting an alien invasion of Earth, and Superman is on the 6 o'clock news every night. Time travel? I'm from the freaking future! It's not fiction dude, it's fact."

"Well yeah, maybe." Ted relented, after a swig of his cocktail. "But how many times is your average Joe going to see Red Tornado, or Superman? How many folks in the Bible Belt had to deal with Khunds or Dominators? Sure, there's a lot of amazing stuff in the world, but most people are still dealing with TV dinners and parking tickets. Science fiction is for those people, not cool guys like us."

"To be honest, they didn't really have things like that on New Genesis either." Scott mentioned. "Mostly just ballads of romance and high adventure that were grandiose in their scope and awe-inspiring in their emotional depth. On the other hand, the closest you ever got to art on Apokolips was when the Parademons competed to see who could make the biggest blood spatter by dropping people onto the concrete."

"And to think, you managed to come away from that with only minor trauma." Ted remarked.

"Yeah, I barely even notice the night terrors anymore."

"But _why_ doesn't Joe Public have access to this kind of stuff?" Booster pressed. "Ted, you're supposed to be a genius…"

"What do you mean 'supposed to be'?"

"-And you owned your own multimillion dollar corporation. So why doesn't everyone fly around in a giant bug? Why aren't cops outfitted with BB guns? Why doesn't Firestorm turn all the nuclear waste in the world into food for the poor? Why doesn't Superman irrigate the Sahara? Why doesn't Doctor Fate fix the hole in the ozone layer? Why is everyone content with stopping purse snatchers and not stopping the root of the problems in society?"

"Hey man, don't blame me. Do you really think the suits over at Exxon or Ford are going to let a vehicle that runs on clean energy go into mass production? Do you really think the world would magically get better if Supes did solve world hunger? There'd still be racism and bigotry, there'd still be crime and oppression and all that horrible stuff, because it's ingrained into our collective psyche. Taking away one problem just means they'll double down on another. Which is why superheroes exist, I guess. To keep the world running smoothly, improve the things that we can improve, and stop the occasionally destruction of the planet by alien warlords." Ted took a drink, studied the contents of the glass, and slowly set it back on the table. "Since when did you get so jaded about the biz, anyway? Wasn't the whole reason you went back in time was to make money?"

"Well yeah. But if you guys did a better job of fixing the world, maybe I wouldn't have had to come to the past and become a world famous superhero in the first place. Take some responsibility for once."

"So you don't actually care about world hunger or any of the things you just said, you're just mad at other people for not making life easier for you."

"It's not entirely your fault. You come from a primitive age, you probably haven't developed the ability to conceive how your actions might affect the future."

"Oh, well thanks bud. For a second there I thought you were being a delusional, narcissistic jackass."

"No problem man, that's what friends are for."

"...Are you sure you're actually a good guy?" Scott asked.

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRIIIINNNNNGGGG!" Guy shouted. He had already finished one of the pitchers and was well into his second, and he definitely looked it. "Is this all you nerds talk about when you're off the clock? No wonder I never hang out with you losers, I'd be more excited watching paint dry."

"Yeah, because it reminds you of your childhood days of chowing down on paint chips." Booster said.

"Probably ate them out of the same bowl he used for his haircut." Ted added.

"Watch it bug breath, or you're going to get a free skydiving lesson above the Hudson river. Without a parachute!"

"Sure, unless we come across a lemon along the way. Or a school bus. Or Booster's skull."

"You know, it's statements like that that make me think you're actually mad."

"Well what _do_ you think we should talk about, Guy?" Scott said, as he eyed the emerald glow coming from the annoyed Lantern with a slightly nervous eye. He had dodged enough giant green boxing gloves since his admittance to the JLI to know what the warning signs were.

"The IMPORTANT stuff of course, none of this namby-pamby college junk!" Guy grunted. Those who knew Guy Gardner best knew that he communicated primarily in grunts, shouts, growls, and childish taunts. Those who didn't know Guy Gardner were generally happier and more well-adjusted. "Chicks, football, meat, and Clint Eastwood movies, that's the only things men should talk about when they hang out together."

Booster and Ted glanced at each other, amused looks on their faces. Which, again, was something you ended up seeing a lot if you were familiar with the JLI. Well, less 'seeing' and more 'forced to endure', if you wanted to get technical.

"You know, I _do_ like talking about chicks." Booster admitted.

"As do I, Boost ol' buddy, as do I. It's my third favorite hobby actually, right behind looking at women and talking to women." Ted said, and turned to face the 'one true' Green Lantern. "Unfortunately I'm on a diet Guy, and listening to you talk about women I'd probably end up feeling so greasy that I'd need bypass surgery."

"That's your problem, beetle brain. You see a chick, and you want to talk with her." Guy said matter-of-factly. "Women were put on this planet for only two things: listening and doing what they're told. It's like dealing with a dog, anything more than simple orders just end up confusin' 'em."

"Wow." Ted said, a deadpan expression on his face. "And you say you have no idea why you're not more popular?"

"Yeah dude, that's a pretty antiquated attitude, even for the late 20th century." Booster said. "And I'm not just saying that because I was born hundreds of years after you all die."

"Screw you guys! I'm the only one with a girlfriend at this table, and I got a dozen more wrapped around my little finger! If anyone knows broads around here, it's Guy Gardner!"

"Actually, I'm married." Scott pointed out.

"Shut up Free, no one's talking to you!"

"Yeah, I've noticed…"

"Oh that's right, you _do_ have a girlfriend!" Ted exclaimed. "So tell me Guy, have you told Ice about these staunch convictions of yours?"

For the first time that evening, and indeed for the first time since he had been in the same room with Batman, the Green Lantern's face was not the mask of delusional self-confidence and sadistic glee that it was normally. Now it had been replaced with something else, something more akin to...fear? Nervousness, perhaps? It was truly a bewildering sight to the two men and one god sitting with him.

"I...She...I mean, she already knows her place, so I don't need to tell her."

"Really?" Ted said with an innocent tone. As innocent as one could be with the kind of magazine collection that the second Blue Beetle had, at least. "But I thought you said women are simple creatures who don't understand things unless they're told? Seems like something you should do right away, to avoid any unfortunate incidents. Unless you'd prefer I tell her what you said?"

With a familiar scowl, Guy slammed the pitcher he had been drinking from on the table, sending the remnants of beer splashing everywhere. Then, just in case anyone else in the bar wasn't staring at the heroes, the one true Green Lantern bolted upright, toppling his chair to the ground with a loud crash.

"I'm getting more beer." Guy growled. "Maybe you wimps should try and get a clue before I get back."

"Man, he sure changed his tune." Booster said as Gardner stomped off towards the bar. "Amazing what the love of a good woman can do for a complete jerk."

"Humans sure do like making things like love more complicated than they should be." Scott said. "You can't even tell if it is true love with them half the time. I can't, at least."

"You know what they say boys, no man is an island. Even if that island is in the middle of Bikini Atoll." Ted replied. "So Scott, does Barda have any single friends back on Apokolips? I'm asking for a friend, of course…"


	4. Chapter 4: An Impeccable Plan

When the amoral Aryan known as Übermensch and the villainous valkyrie known as Gudra first decided to go into hiding and plan for the eventual destruction of the free world as we know it, there were a few rules that had to be established before choosing an evil lair. For one, it had to be hidden right under the nose of those democracy-loving fools in the All-Star Squadron and the Justice Society, in a city that would unwittingly provide the resources and the manpower for an army that would sweep over America like a plague of death, crushing the hopes and dreams of its pathetic citizenry under their boots like it was always meant to be. Secondly, it had to be rent-controlled. Living in New York was expensive enough after all, add in all the expenses involved with starting up your own terrorist organization and the necessity of working within a budget becomes all too clear.

Sure, Baron Blitzkrieg and Captain Nazi, his compatriots against the American way might have balked at the idea of the great Übermensch clipping coupons and recycling bottles and cans, but where were they now? Dead, forever shamed by their loss to these American _dummkopfs_! And he, Germany's dreams given form, was still alive. So obviously he was right and they were wrong.

Unfortunately for the cause, the only thing 40 years of scrimping and saving (and the yearly trip to Reno) had resulted in little more a basement full of pro-fascist pamphlets, baseball caps, Axis Amerika action figures with realistic _heil_ ing action and one regulation-size pool table, which was straining under the weight of the large, enticingly ominous object that was placed on top of it. So enticing… but Übermensch was a proper villain, and any self-respecting villain needed to understand the proper use of the dramatic reveal.

There were five people inside the surprisingly spacious basement that night. The dastardly Übermensch of course, scourge of democracy and the Allied Forces. Gudra was there, golden spear in hand (crafted from the purest gold by the greatest dwarven smiths and enchanted by Odin himself to bring death to those it touched), lazily thumbing through an issue of Cosmopolitan. Übermensch considered reprimanding her, discipline was one of the top tenets of fascism after all (right next to fondness for black leather), but he decided against it. You didn't want to give Nordic death spirits reason to hold a grudge.

As for the other three, a simple glimpse into a nearby Stern-Pasko Superhuman guide would tell you that this was majority of Axis Amerika: the Italian archer Usil (wearing a pinstriped suit and a domino mask rather than his traditional yellow attire), Aryan mystery man The Great Horned Owl (looking decidedly more...gritty than the history books claimed) and the monstrous, amphibious lycanthrope known as Sea Wolf (who seemed to have taken the canine equivalent of human growth hormone in the intervening years since WWII). They too seemed as if they were completely uninterested in being there. Well, except for the Great Horned Owl, who seemed content in his own little world.

"Ah, welcome, welcome _mein freunds_!" Übermensch greeted with a wheezy chuckle. "So good to see the legacy of Axis Amerika persist to the modern day, in spite of those freedom-loving superheroes."

"In spite of your own incompetence." Gudra muttered.

"Silence woman!" the German supervillain snapped. Then, the image of a gracious host, he turned to the Italian bowman. "You must be the new Usil, the sun archer of Italy. You seem to be missing your traditional yellow attire however."

"What do I look like, some kind of fruit?" Usil II grunted. His accent seemed to be less Rome and more Bowery

"Well, less so now than in the past…"

"Listen pallie," I'm only here because my grandmother is a huge Mussolini freak, and she thought that training me in all aspects of the bow would be continuing his legacy or some crap like that if I took the name of some schmuck that ran around with you back. Except I don't care about following any _stronzo_ 's dreams and I don't care about your little Nazi boy's club here. No offense, ma'am."

"None taken." Gudra said with a smirk.

"You want me to play goon for you, take out a couple heros or something?" Usil II continued. "Fine. But it's gonna cost ya. This Usil has expensive tastes, you catch my drift?"

"Yes, yes, you will be well compensated once our grand task is completed. Quite generously, I might add." The ancient Aryan replied, mentally adding his name to the list of people he was going to murder first. Damn Italians, he thought to himself, just because they invented fascism they think they're so special. What good is a military dictatorship if your military couldn't fight their way out of a paper bag?

"Well if anyone knows about generosity, it's a Nazi right?" Usil II said.

"And here we have a fellow member of the glorious Aryan race, _Die Grosshorn Eule_!" Übermensch boomed, ignoring the jab. "Ah, I remember working with the first _Eule_ , all those years ago. What a fine, upstanding Nazi that man was!"

"Hated all the right people, did he?" Usil remarked.

"This city is a festering corpse, swarming with the maggots of society, and The Horned Owl is the undertaker." The Horned Owl growled, his voice like glass rubbing across sandpaper while being dumped into a glass of whiskey. "Pimps. Pushers. Vagrants. Liberals. The Horned Owl will crush them all under his boot, feel the bones snapping, the tendons tearing, because that's what The Horned Owl does. They all fear The Horned Owl, and that gives The Horned Owl strength. Strength to strangle the scum of the earth as they sleep, because The Horned Owl never sleeps. He's always watching, waiting for the moment to sweep down and strike at the frightened mouse of villainy. Yes, villainy, the grapes from which the The Horned Owl will crush into a red wine, rich in the antioxidants of justice. Justice which-"

"Yes yes, I understand." Übermensch replied, turning towards the last member of the team. "What say you, Seawolf?"

"Bark." Seawolf barked.

"Right." The Aryan supervillain spent a second rubbing his temples. "Well, clearly this team isn't _quite_ as it was back in 1943."

"What was your first guess?" Gudra asked.

"But it's fine! An army as only as good as its commanding officer, and I am the greatest mind in all the world! Victory is all but assured!"

Confidence restored (it apparently didn't need all that much), the elderly villain hobbled over to the pool table. Then suddenly he turned to face the group, a knowing smirk plastered on his wizened face.

" _Herren_ , the plan is a simple one, but in simplicity there is strength. At this moment, the Justice Leaguer known as Guy Gardner is in what these pathetic _Amerikaners_ try to pass off as a bar. He is separated from his comrades, he is intoxicated, and he is defenseless. He is begging to be attacked, and so we shall. This _dummkopf_ who calls himself Green Lantern shall be struck with a superior force. He shall be overwhelmed and eliminated, and when he falls I will **take** that ring of his, that symbol of simpering, weak-willed democracy, and Axis Amerika will finally have the power to crush America and its fat, lazy, filthy people! The Reich will reign for 1000 years, just as the Fuhrer predicted, just as it was always meant to be! We are the architects of that grand design, mein freunds, and the only thing that stands between us this is the Gardner. A man not only hated by his teammates in the League but by his fellow countrymen as well. No one will take up arms for him, no one will defend him when his time comes. It is as if the hand itself is reaching out, just waiting for us to grab it. Shall we step forward to our glorious destinies?"

"Destiny is just another word for a graveyard." The Horned Owl muttered, staring at nothing in particular.

"Well, I don't really care either way, long as I get paid-" Usil II began.

"Woof." Seawolf woofed.

"But I'm not sure how exactly we're supposed to pull this job off. I mean yeah we outnumber him and this Gardner guy is tanked, but he's still a Green Lantern. Dude can shoot the Statue of Liberty into orbit and go toe to toe with Superman at the same time. I doubt a couple of arrows are gonna put the fear of god into him."

"Yes, by all accounts it would seem like we are facing insurmountable odds." Übermensch conceded. "Accounts, however, are not facts, and they fall to the power of superior strategic thinking. Keep in mind, _kameraden_ , that for all their spectacular power the Green Lanterns are all possessed of an equally debilitating flaw. In my time, the Green Lantern was weak to plant life, specifically wood. Today, the fatal flaw of the Lanterns is the color yellow, ridiculous as it may seem. The most powerful weapon on the planet powerless against a gold watch or a banana? Nevertheless, the fact that we know of this weakness means we can build our plan around it. Which is _**this**_ little tool comes in handy!"

Übermensch pulled the tarp covering the thing on the pool table with as dramatic a flourish as a man as old as Moses could provide, revealing what appeared to be a rather large suit of armor. Power armor, to be specific, which was more or less like if one made a tank into leisure wear. None of the villains in the room were all that knowledgable about advanced cybernetics, but from a brief survey of the suit it certainly seemed like something that could go a round with Superman and keep on ticking.

"I believe the gentleman I bought this from called it the Mobile Anti-Meta Battle Armor." Übermensch said with delight, as he ran a withered hand across its enormous frame. It was incredibly creepy. "Supposedly the American government contracted Lexcorp to design some sort of war machine using some of the alien technology left behind after the invasion, to be used as a means of defense against aliens and rogue metahumans should the need arise. For whatever reason the deal fell through, but not before a few managed to enter into the market. Ah, what a marvelous invention! It's almost German in its design!"

"Doesn't Green Lantern already fight a guy in a yellow suit?" Usil II asked. He eyed the suit like a spoiled socialite eyed a diamond ring. "Gold Bond or whatever?"

"A common gangster in a silly costume!" The old man said dismissively. "This...this is a _kriegsmaschine!_ The collective intelligence of a dozen races coming together into one magnificent instrument of death. The ring is far more suited for our purposes of course, but this shall do nicely in the interim."

"It stirs something deep within the ebon pit that is my soul." Horned Owl admitted.

"Yeah, but who's going to wear it?" Usil II asked.

"I will, of course." The ancient aryan replied.

"You?" Gudra scoffed. "You don't even drive, and now you're going to strap yourself into this tin can?"

"I AM THE ÜBERMENSCH! THE OVER MAN!" The supervillain shouted. "I am as above humanity as this machine is above its technology! Using this machine will be as natural to me as the fish swimming in the sea, or the bird taking flight! It is fate! It is my destiny! And I will seize with my own hands!"

The other villains fell silent. The only sound in the room came from a water pipe slowly dripping into a box of supremacist pamphlets labeled "What White Means For You!". Outside, the sounds of a man trying to convince his girlfriend that he was, in fact, Batman filled the streets.

"Now," Übermensch continued, sheepishly, "if someone could help me into the suit, we can get started."

"Bork." Seawolf borked.


	5. Chapter 5: Something Finally Happens

_(AN: I may have gotten the time line a little wonky, the team and title were being branded as Justice League America at the time for example (I like JLI more), but this story is placed prior to the events that took place from Justice League America #53 onward.)_

"PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING ISN'T FAKE, DAMN IT! IT'S AN ART FORM!" Guy Gardner shouted, slamming a gloved fist down on the table. The noise of the impact was enough to draw the attention of several other patrons, but no one seemed interested in making a scene with the guy with the magic ring.

"Guy, what the hell are you talking about?" Ted Kord asked. "We weren't talking pro wrestling. At all. In fact I'm not sure if we've ever talked about it before."

"I know that!" Guy shot back, although he stared at Booster when he said it. "I'm just letting you nerds know in advance...in case it comes up…"

"...Okay?"

Guy responded with a noise that sounded like a cross between a belch and a hiccup.

"What were we talking about again?" Scott Free asked.

"I'm not sure, to be honest." Ted replied. "Feels like we've been in here for weeks. Or maybe that's because GL here has drunk enough beer to last a week."

"Best Green Lantern and best drinker." Guy slurred.

"I think we were talking about how awesome it is that my script for Booster Gold: The Motion Picture has finally been picked up by TMG Studios!" Booster announced grandly. "Personally I'm thinking Spielberg for director and Dolph Lundgren as me James Earl Jones in for the voice of Skeets. Oh, and about three or four Playboy Bunnies, depends on the budget..."

"Woah woah woah." Ted said. "Hold on. First off, you look nothing like Dolph Lundgren. That dude looks like an actual superhero."

"It's called makeup and special effects man, look it up sometime."

"Second: What the hell man?! How are you going to do a Booster Gold movie and not have your best buddy the Blue Beetle raking in that beaucoup dinero?"

"We can't just jump into the Gold & Blue-"

"Blue & Gold."

"-Whatever in the first go! This is franchise material we're talking about buddy, and you can't start a franchise without an origin story. Everyone knows that. Plus kids just love Skeets! He's like the pet rock of the 90s."

"Haw Haw Haw!" Guy slurred. "Who's gonna pay 4 bucks to see your ugly mug more than once? Hell, I work with you and I feel like asking Lord for my money back."

"Thanks Guy, that means alot coming from the real life Alfred E. Neuman." Booster replied.

"Alfred E. Neuman…" Scott mused aloud. "Isn't that the guy who founded the first system of physics on Earth?"

"If only." Ted said.

"Alright ladies," Guy announced, as he rose unsteadily to his feet, "I've got to hit the head. Try not to kill yourselves while I'm gone."

As Guy Gardner, one of the most powerful beings on the planet, stumbled to the back muttering half-coherent obscenities about a certain Green Lantern he knew, the three men watched him go with an expression that was equal parts annoyance and pity. Then, as one, they breathed out a heavy sigh.

"Why." Ted murmured. He rubbed his face like a man wiping away the cold sweat from a nightmare. "Why did we bring The Living Greaseball along? Why didn't we shoot Guy out of a cannon and take out some stunningly beautiful women with amazing personalities who also happen to be independently wealthy?"

"Probably because we don't know any women like that buddy." Booster replied, as he leaned back in his chair. "Well I do, but whatever. Besides, we're superheroes. Helping the unfortunate is part of our job description."

"If I have to sit through one more treatise on why Rambo would totally kill the Terminator, I think my soul is going to wither away. You've pulled some heinous pranks since I've known you Boost, but I think this one might violate the Geneva Convention."

"Don't put the blame on me, Ted ol' pal. I didn't know he was actually coming with us till we got the taxi. I figured you did it as payback for that one time I made you kiss Detective Chimp."

"I was the one who invited him." Scott said.

"WHAT?!" The two cried out in unison.

"Yeah, yeah, I know there are Parademons with more class than Guy, but he is a part of the team, so we should at least try to get along with him."

"...Have you met Guy Gardner?" Booster asked.

"That and...well, I thought it would be fun to have a little get together with my friends, a guy's night out I think they call it. Before I...you know...left."

"Woah woah woah, wait a minute." Ted said, waving his hand. "First off, please don't call it a 'get together'. Secondly, what the hell man?! Where's this coming from?"

"Yeah, you sure that OJ isn't going to your head?"

"No, it's something that's been on my mind for a while now, but things kept coming up." Scott replied. "Killing machines, evil gods, whatever. With how quiet it's been lately though the time just felt right."

"But why, man?" Booster asked incredulously. "You're in the Justice League now! The big time, top of the heap, women want you and men want to be you! Talk shows, endorsement deals, action figures! Why would you want to give that up?"

"Yeah, look at Booster's career up until now. Who wouldn't want to replicate that success story?"

Scott didn't answer for a moment, choosing instead to stare into the remainder of his sickly sweet orange juice as he swirled it about the bottom of his glass. It suddenly occurred to the two heroes that they had never seen Scott Free look so absolutely tired before. I mean he was a god after all, you never really thought of them as beings who needed a breather every now and then.

"Guys, my entire life has been one long, long fight. I fought for my soul on Apokolips, and the day I stepped out of the boom tube onto Earth and accepted the mantle of Mister Miracle I've fought against evil, Darkseid's and others. Doctor Bedlam, Granny Goodness, Intergang, King Komodo, that one disembodied head-"

"The what?"

"-I fought them and a dozen others over the years and I won! I beat them all, and somewhere along the way I managed to make a living and get married. I don't...I don't want my life to be an endless battles though, and I don't want things like my marriage to be like an afterthought. I want to live like normal people on this planet do, heck, I want to figure out what normal even means. I can't do that when I'm spending all my time in the HQ bantering with the League all day hoping that we'll have some crisis to stop."

"We do banter a lot." Booster admitted.

"Don't get me wrong, all you guys are my best friends on Earth. J'onn, Bea, Tora...Guy too I guess, we've done some great things and I'm proud to have been a member of the JLI, but I just can't do it anymore."

At a nearby table, a man desperately tried to convince the woman sitting next to him that he was, in fact, Superman. It didn't seem to be going well.

"...Well," Booster said hesitantly, "if that's what you want to do, then more power to you. You and Barda deserve a vacation. Oberon too, guy has been talking about wanting to visit Dollywood for weeks now. Oh! You know what, this whole conversation would make for a great scene for the Booster Gold graphic novel I'm working on. I need to write this down…"

"Booster Gold, self-centered? Nah." Ted remarked. "But I guess he's got a point in his own way. You've definitely saved the planet enough times to qualify for retirement, as far as I'm concerned."

"Hear hear." Booster mumbled, as he tried to scribble down story ideas onto a moist bar napkin.

"Besides, you're the only one on the team who can even do the whole 'normal life' thing. J'onn's an alien, Bea and Tora are celebrities, Booster and Guy are...themselves, as horrible as that sounds-"

"Hear hear. Wait what?"

"And as for me, well, let's just say last time I was Ted Kord it didn't end so well. But you Scott? Tabula Rasa man. Fill it with daytime television and Belly Buster burgers."

Scott grinned, and it was as innocent and joyous as one would expect from a god. "Thanks guys, I really appreciate this. I know Barda would too, if she were here."

"Yeah, well, remember how great I am next time you're on New Genesis and some impossibly attractive goddess walks by." Booster replied. "Madonna isn't returning my calls."

"So have you told Max and the rest of the guys yet?" Ted asked.

"I've talked with Max and J'onn about it, and they seemed to be on board with it, at least more than Oberon. I was going to tell Bea and Tora when they got back from Milan… As for Guy, I was thinking maybe around 5 minutes before I left?"

Ted and Booster glanced at each other, and then simultaneously nodded.

"Yeah, that's probably for the best."

"If you do it fast enough you'll be gone before he can hurl his first insult."

"Hmm." Scott took a swig of OJ. "Speed is one of the most important tools of my trade. It's probably not going to be for a while though, I told Max that I would stay on for the rest of the month, just in case you guys needed help."

"Hey, we're the Justice League, okay?" Booster replied. "I think we can handle whatever fate decides to throw at us."

Suddenly, a single clear tone rang throughout the bar. The tone, or perhaps it could be more accurately described as a PING, seemed almost to hang in the air separate from the general din, before slowly fading away. Then a second later there was another PING, which was followed by yet another, and on and on.

"What in the hell is that?" Booster asked, bewildered. "I didn't think ringtones were invented for another ten years!"

"It's Mother Box." The New God replied, as he pulled a small metal rectangle out of his pants pocket. There didn't seem to be any buttons or screens on it, just strange, blocky circuitry, but Scott was staring at its surface with a concerned expression.

"Right, of course, I knew that. But Ted's a little slow, so explain it to him."

"Mother Box is...well, I guess you it wouldn't be too far off to say that She's a kind of living computer." Scott replied. He stood, holding the still PINGing machine close to his ear. "It's a direct line between my people and The Source, connecting all of New Genesis to its divine power. Mother Box loves us all, and protects us from harm."

"Riiiight. Scott, are you sure that what you've been drinking is orange juice?"

"Scott told us about Mother Box months ago, you idiot." Ted shot back, then turned to Scott. "That PINGing means that Mother Box is trying to talk to you right? What is She saying?"

"I'm not sure. She's sending out some kind of distress signal." Scott held up the device to his ear. "What is it Mother Box? What are you trying to tell me?"

The man known as Scott Free stood up from the table, listening closely to the machine he called Mother Box. Although the PINGs themselves never changed, either in frequency or pitch, from the look on Scott's face there seemed to be a deeper meaning that was lost on Ted and Booster. After a few seconds he lowered Mother Box, a serious expression now on his face.

"Mother Box says that we're all in danger. We have to get out of here right now."

"Sounded to me like She said PING." Booster muttered.

"What danger? Where?" Ted asked. He stood up as well, glancing around the bar, looking for anything that didn't belong.

"She couldn't say for certain, but if Mother Box is warning us, that means it's on our doorstep. Come on, we have to get clear of these people."

"I hear you. Alright, let's goo-" Booster attempted to stand, only to stop midway and slump back into his chair, "-oh boy. I'm a bit drunker than I expected. Man, you guys in the past weren't kidding around with this stuff."

"We do our best." Ted said. "Well I guess I'll go get Guy then. Hopefully he isn't passed out in his own vomit again. Those nuns still haven't forgiven us."

"Pfft, Guy's probably the safest guy here. Heh." Booster said. "Dude's got his ring, what does he have to worry about?"

"I think it might be a moot point now." Scott murmured, as Mother Box continued PING. He started frantically rummaging through his pockets.

Outside, a curious looking light was getting brighter and brighter.

"Alright dorks, Earth's favorite Green Lantern is back in the game!" Guy Gardner shouted, as he stumbled out of the bathroom with all the grace of a three-legged buffalo. "Somebody order another two pitchers of brew. This night's starting to get good!"

Then everything was noise and light.


	6. Chapter 6: Meanwhile

When an explosion ripped through a popular bar in downtown New York City, J'onn J'onzz, the Martian Manhunter, leader of the American branch of Justice League International, was not in his room at the JLA headquarters. In fact he wasn't in New York at all, or even in the greater United States, and hadn't been for several days. Instead he had been traveling around the world celebration of a Martian holiday known as Kul'Kan, roughly translated to 'Long Walk'. While admittedly a lesser holiday in Martian society (a fact that was conveniently ignored when talking to Max Lord), Kul'Kan's goal of bettering oneself by experiencing new things and broadening horizons meshed perfectly well for J'onn's almost desperate need for a vacation. Not that he didn't like his work, he was honored that the nations of his second home had placed their trust in him, but there were some things that not even delectable cream-filled chocolate cookies could help.

Things like Guy Gardner.

Yes, before that horrific and deadly incident in New York, J'onn J'onzz was relaxing in a particularly comfy chair in the cozy Victorian-style drawing room of Justice League Europe's London office. Lying next to him on a wooden coffee table was a large package of delectable cream-filled chocolate cookies, which he frequently rummaged through. Off in the corner a large record player was playing some very old, very quiet jazz, and outside the people London were doing the things it liked to do in the darkness of early morning. Whatever that entailed.

From behind a corner, the head of Ralph Dibny, the world famous detective and superhero known as Elongated Man, peeked into the room.

"Milk or sugar?" Ralph asked.

"None for me, thank you."

"Alright." he replied. His head returned back from whence it came. "I hope you don't mind tea. Atom and Rex were so adamant about having coffee in the HQ, I think they tried to get Catherine to requisition one from the folks at the U.N., but I mean come on! We're Justice League Europe! We're living in London now and Londoners drink tea, so if we really want to put down roots here we have to do as the Londoners do."

"'When in Rome, do as the Romans do', as the saying goes." J'onn replied.

"We've been trying at least." Ralph Dibny admitted, as his upper body stretched into the room, carrying two saucers with cups on them. He extended one of the saucers to J'onn, then set his own next to a chair that he eventually sat down in (being elongated, the process took a few seconds). "Hope you like the tea, by the way, it's called Noon chai. From Kashmir, I think it was. Sue found it in a little specialty shop the other day and I've been wanting to try it out."

J'onn took a sip of the pink liquid. It tasted of almonds and cinnamon, as well as a couple other things he didn't recognize. "Hmm. Very interesting."

"Good, that's good." Ralph replied. He took a drink a well, seemed to agree with the flavor, then set it back down. A pensive look was on his face. "Sue has really been going above and beyond lately, taking moniter duty shifts, going on goodwill tours, but I can tell she's feeling a little stifled staying in one city for too long. I don't know if finding a hip tea shop is going to help her out, but I'm willing to give it a shot."

"I think that Susan wouldn't have taken on these duties if she didn't believe if it were important, or if she didn't get some sense of fulfillment out of doing it. Finding things like this tea was probably more for your benefit than hers, a way to remind her of her adventurous past and reassure you that she isn't sacrificing her own happiness for your job."

"That _would_ be reassuring, I've gotta admit." Ralph replied. "You're a pretty good judge of human character for a man from Mars."

"I spent a number of years as a detective, I suppose you pick up some things after a while." J'onn said. "That, and I watch The Oprah Winfrey Show."

"I'll drink to that!" Ralph said, then gingerly sipped his tea.

"I apologize for taking you away from her at such an inconvenient hour. I hadn't considered the time when I decided to visit."

"Nah, it's fine, I'm supposed to be on monitor duty anyway." Ralph replied. "We got a tip that Morgana Le Fay was planning on unleashing a demonic horde upon the people of Britain and transform it into her own dark kingdom of the arcane, so Cap is being all gung-ho about surveillance. Good thing Kilowog agreed to cover my shift, there's no way I could take on a magic army without my 8 hours."

"Yes, ever since I joined this iteration of the League I've learned the necessity of relaxation."

"That's the trouble with working for the B-team, J'onn." Ralph said matter-of-factly. "They spend all their time making problems, so you spend all your time solving them. Several years of that and you'd want to pull your hair out. Well, if you had hair."

"Coming from the man on his second headquarters."

"Ouch!" Ralph cried, in an exaggerated display of agony. Quite exaggerated indeed, given that he was Elongated Man. "A KO punch from the Man from Mars! You should do stand up with that kind of wit."

"Who says I don't?" J'onn replied, with a slight grin. He grabbed another. "I will admit, after the last iteration of the League...disbanded, I was hesitant to try it again. Too many painful memories. However, I must admit that I've grown attached to these people in a way I never expected. In spite of their...eccentricities, I'm glad to know them."

"'Eccentric', eh? Well that's one way to put it." Ralph muttered. "I'm happy that you decided to come back though J'onn, you've been the heart of the Justice League since the very beginning. I can't imagine the team without you."

"Thank you Ralph. I think of the League as my family, and I'd like to think that belief is reciprocated."

"Just wait till Thanksgiving rolls around." Ralph replied.

"Hey, Long Guy!" A baritone voice thundered from down the hall. J'onn recognized it as the voice of Kilowog, former Green Lantern and current handyman for the Justice League. "I think that extradimensional invasion thing you poozers have been waiting for is here!"

"Oh great, evil AND inconvenient. Isn't that always the way?" Ralph grumbled. He downed the rest of his tea in one gulp, which from his expression was a painful mistake, and rose from his seat. "J'onn, I know this isn't exactly your jurisdiction per se, but I think we'd all appreciate your your help."

"Of course I will Ralph." J'onn replied. He looked forlornly over at the now empty package of cookies, then stood up as well. "Of course I will."

Before an explosion ripped through a popular bar in downtown New York, Beatriz da Costa, otherwise known as Fire, and Tora Olafsdottir, also known as Ice, were relaxing in a lavishly decorated hotel room in Milan, Italy. It had been a long day for the two heroines; Brunch with famous fashion designer Andre Devry, dinner with famous movie director Paulo Paulino, foiling a plot to sink Venice by an Atlantean supremacist group, and eventually a long night of clubbing at the hippest discotheques the city had to offer. Now in the wee hours of the morning, all signs pointed towards curling up in bed and getting some sleep, and that's exactly what Tora intended to do. Unfortunately, her best friend didn't quite feel the same way.

"Let's see...Federico Pesci, 8. Lance Stevens, 8. Luigi Andretti, 7. Benicio Franco..." Beatriz murmured, marking down things in a small black notebook. "Benicio Franco, Benicio Franco, _quem era_ …? Hey Tora, do you a remember a guy named Benicio Franco? I think we met him at that one cute little club with the aquarium. Where would you say he rated on a scale of 1 to 10?"

"Ugh." Tora replied, her head shoved deep into an incredibly comfortable pillow.

"That bad, eh?" Bea replied, letting out a low whistle. "Maybe I had a bit too much to drink after all."

"I'm not ughing at that, I'm ughing because it's been hours since I tried to go to bed and YOU ARE STILL UP!"

"Honey, when you look as good as I do, proper maintenance is key. We're talking about a multi-stage process." Bea replied. "Besides, I need to get all these names and numbers down now or I'm totally going to end up forgetting."

Tora almost ughed again, but stopped herself at the last moment."Then why don't you do that weird stuff in your own room? You know, the one that Max Lord is paying for?"

"Weird stuff? This is the 90s, Tora, it's called networking." Bea replied. "You have to get your name out there, push your brand, or else you can't get anywhere."

"What does ranking guys on how hot they are have to do with pushing your 'brand'?" Ice asked.

"If you were looking for advice on how to look great and be popular, who would you rather listen to: A guy who who looks like Johnny Depp or a guy who looks like Bob Dole?"

"Well,when you put it like that…" Ice said with a pensive look on her face, as she finally sat up in her bed. It seemed better than trying to struggle against the inevitable.

"It's probably not the easiest way to get famous, but it's the way I'm doing it." Fire admitted.

"You almost sound like Booster, talking like that."

"Hey, I know you're upset about the sleep thing, but those kinds of words hurt." Fire replied. Finished with her writing, she closed the black book and slipped it into the pocket of her incredibly comfortable looking robe. "Besides, Booster is great, but all he wants is fame and fortune. Put him on a box of Crunchios or on a billboard with a can of Soder Cola and he's happy. _I'm_ trying to build a fashion empire. No more advertising other people's clothing, they're going to be advertising me."

"But we're superheroes Bea! Members of the Justice League! We're supposed to be helping people, not trying to make money!"

"We're still superheroes, Tora! We still help people. What about those terrorists trying to sink Venice? We stopped them."

"Oh that hardly counts. They didn't even know Venice was 4 hours away." Ice replied. "The talk show hosts and the magazine reporters are just going to make fun of us again."

"Making fun of people is their job, don't take it personally." Fire said with a dismissive wave of her hand. The same hand that had 'accidentally' singed a fellow models hair after a comment was made regarding weight. "At the end of the day we're still the Justice League, saviors of the planet and protectors of the innocent."

"Maybe…" Ice murmured. "I mean, there have been several Leagues over the years, with many different members. They probably all thought that they were doing things right too, and they all fell apart. How do we know the same thing won't happen to us?"

"I guess we don't." Fire admitted. "We just do what we can as much as we can. If we haven't broken up by now though, with all the crap that's happened lately, I doubt we ever will."

"I hope so." Tora said wistfully. "It'd be nice if one day people talked about our team the same way they think about the original Justice League."

"Pfft, forget _that._ We're gonna be better!" Bea shot back. Then she yawned, stretched feline-like in her chair, and stood up. "Alright, I think it's about time for the stunningly beautiful Brazilian super model/super heroine to get to bed. Late brunch and patrol later on?"

"Sure. Night." Ice replied. She watched her best friend leave the room, then turned back to the room. It felt strangely empty now, and for a moment the frost maiden was filled with a great, terrible panic, as if she were looking over the edge of a vast abyss. A sudden, existential reminder of her own solitude perhaps, but there was something deeper to it, as if her body was having an unconscious reaction to something far away. What it was she didn't know, but it certainly felt real.

She almost rose to get Fire, then, but a moment later decided against it. They were just worries after all, silly fears that everyone felt at some point or another, and it was Bea's motto in life to not worry about anything if she could help it. Plus with how it late it was...Ice shook her head as she pushed the thoughts away. No, she was just being foolish. There wasn't anything going on.

Time for sleep, and to forget. 


End file.
